September 11

Today is September 11, 2008, the 7th anniversary of the terrorist attacks that have made 9/11 part of our lexicon. The following is something I wrote 4 years ago, upon my first visit to a post 9/11 Ground Zero.

I believe that we all learned lessons on 9/11, and on this date, we should remember what we learned and try to become better people because of it.

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On this site, on August 21, 2002,
Governor George E. Pataki of New York,
Governor James E. McGreevy of New Jersey, and
Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg of New York City
proclaimed that in honor of the heroes of
September 11, 2001, this viewing wall would be erected
by the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey
so that the world community can reflect upon
and remember the events that took place here,
and draw strength and inspiration, as we rebuild


For me, September 11, 2001 will always trigger memories of Mevaseret Zion, Israel, where I was when the attacks occurred. This distance from New York has played a significant role in my personal memories of 9/11, where I have felt disconnected from what occurred on that day. To create a bridge from Israel to New York, to develop a web, where everything is intertwined, in order to give myself a truer, more meaningful understanding of what happened on that horrific September morning, I am now standing at Ground Zero.

A plane flies overhead. I close my eyes and try to imagine a September morning a few years past. Chills begin to radiate up and down my spine.

There is a silence to the place. Not the silence of noise, as I am listening to the soundtrack of New York City traffic, but rather a visual silence, an empty space, where so much had stood. What seems like eons ago, but in reality, is only a short two and a half years past.

I place my fingers on the cold steel fence, which acts as a cage for the entire site, and my eyes become transfixed, staring into the dark and hollow pit. Inside, there is no activity. Just a pit with abandoned construction materials, waiting to be awoken from their slumber.

Various signs adorn the fence. Among them are six large signs proclaiming, “The Heroes of September 11, 2001.” A countless number of names adorn each sign. Each name representing a life that is no more.

One sign reads, “The Pentagon” and tells the story of the airplane that crashed into that impenetrable fortress, the headquarters of our country’s military. Another sign tells the tale of the plane that fell out of the sky in “Stonycreek Township, Pennsylvania.” Even though Ground Zero remains the Mecca, the literal ground zero, of the tragedy of September 11, New York remembers the attacks that occurred elsewhere.

Another sign acts a reminder that New York City and the World Trade Center were not strangers to terrorism. “February 26, 1993.”

At the corner of Church Street and Liberty Street, a man stands wearing a white construction hat, a clipboard in his hand. “Anyone need any help? I’ll talk to people,” he announces to no one in particular. A family of four approaches and asks for directions. He gladly assists and points them towards where they want to go.

As I begin to head towards the subway, I see a man walking down the street, yelling in a loud voice, “This is history. Don’t let gbr tjy yaq.” His voice trails off as he walks. Intrigued, I turn around and follow him. “Know the facts. Know the facts,” he cries out. He seems very passionate about this site. He is holding photos of different pictures of the Twin Towers. He obviously is looking for an audience. A family from Minnesota is more than happy to stop and listen to him. Slowly, a crowd gathers, as he begins to speak.

“This is history. Don’t let it be a mystery” he begins. “Ah,” I say to myself, “that is what he was saying. Nice rhyme.” He continues, “Don’t let anyone tell you that only two buildings came down. Seven buildings that were a part of the World Trade Center complex came down. Two additional buildings were destroyed as well.” And he tells us to turn our heads, and he points to a building that is covered in black material, “that building will be the tenth.” Apparently, they are dismantling that building, one floor at a time, as it is not safe enough for use.

The man tells the tale of the growth of downtown Manhattan. He shows us a photograph taken not long after the Twin Towers were built. Then he shows us a photograph taken twenty-five years later. The difference is striking. No longer standing alone, the Twin Towers are now surrounded by many friends.

“Over 80 buildings were damaged on 9/11.” He has us look at the buildings across the street. “All new windows. Every window in a four block radius of the World Trade Center had to be replaced.” “Ah,” I say to myself, as before, I had observed that the buildings across the street, standing in all of their majesty, seemed oblivious to the destruction that had occurred right in front of their eyes.

The man points out the difference between the sidewalk on which we are standing, and the sidewalk across the street. The one across the street is a darker shade of grey, “New York Grey” he calls it. The sidewalk where we are standing is brand new. It needs a “New York Summer” with the sun baking down on it, in order for the color to become New Yorkified.

He concluded his presentation and continued to walk down the street, “This is history. Don’t let gbr tjy yaq,” his voice trailing as he walked.

I turned to take one last look at Ground Zero and headed towards the subway. As I was walking, I felt confident that no longer would 9/11 feel distant to me. It was history, and for me, was no longer a mystery.

"The Antidote To Death Is Life"

This week's Science Times had an interesting article about death, Perhaps Death Is Proud; More Reason to Savor Life.  It is written by a nurse who documents the struggle of trying to revive a patient who unexpectedly suffers a cardiac arrest and ultimately dies.

She concludes her article with a plea to live.  She writes

What can one do? Go home, love your children, try not to bicker, eat well, walk in the rain, feel the sun on your face and laugh loud and often, as much as possible, and especially at yourself. Because the only antidote to death is not poetry, or drama, or miracle drugs, or a roomful of technical expertise and good intentions. The antidote to death is life.

As we are now in the month of Elul, only several weeks away from Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, it is incumbent on us to reasses our lives and our priorities.  The author writes some "new year resolutions" for us, and we can all think of some more.  But the underlying point is we want to live. 

The High Cost of Dying

The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles recently published an interesting article about the high cost of dying. The following excerpt is relevant to Chesed Shel Emes.

For the indigent, the Jewish Community Burial Program, offered through Jewish Family Service of Los Angeles, provides a traditional Jewish burial at no cost... (The toll-free contact number is (887) 275-4537.)

"No one should have to make an un-Jewish and undignified choice because of cost," Funeral Practices Committee chair Hyman said.

Additionally, some cemeteries, including Hillside and Mount Sinai, do not charge for the burial of a child. "The family has enough tzuris (trouble). They don't need any more," Mount Sinai's Lawrence said.

My question is, does anyone know of any New York area cemeteries that don't charge for the burial of a child?

Once You Pop You Can't Stop Redux

I just watched a short online video by Rabbi Yaakov Salomon about the designer of the Pringles Can being cremated and having his ashes placed in an empty can (click here to watch). I wrote about this last month (see here) and was happy to see Rabbi Salomon discuss this as well. (Full disclosure - Rabbi Salomon is my wife's uncle).

Rabbi Salomon argues that while someone's last wishes are important, they shouldn't always be followed. He tells the story of a league of bowlers, who on their graves it is written, "they lived to bowl." This isn't a fitting way to be remembered.

So I ask you, what would your last request be? Would your last wish be something profound, like Randy Pausch's, who wanted to insure his children would remember him, and learn from him, while he is gone. That sounds a lot better than a pringles can or a bowling bowl.

The Last Lecture

I was inspired by Randy Pausch. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Dr. Pausch was a professor at Carnegie Mellon University who passed away last week from Pancreatic Cancer. Dr. Pausch's story became an international phenomenon after he gave his "Last Lecture" this past September, with the knowledge that he would be dead by now. The lecture has been seen by millions online, translated into different languages, and inspired a best-selling book.

What makes Dr. Pausch's story amazing is that even when he was staring death in the face, he lived his life to the fullest. He loved his life and loved living it. He loved his wife, his kids, his students, his profession. He loved the gifts that were given to him.

He was lucky. Many are not.

He was given the opportunity to package a legacy to leave for his children. Through his lecture and book, he has left a personal manifesto for them. He had the time to prepare personal letters and videos for each of them. To take them on vacations and to leave them with memories. He had the time, and the knowledge that it was being taken away from him.

We all know that life is a gift. When we wake up in the morning, the first words out of our mouth's are Modeh Ani, thanking Hashem for returning our souls to our bodies for another day on His great earth. However, we don't always live with the constant realization that our time is precious. We go about our day-to-day lives. We make life routine.

The message from Randy Pausch is to live life to its fullest. Take advantage of every day. We should take the time to commit our thoughts about life to writing or video for future generations. We should build a legacy of words that are a reflection of our actions.

When Dr. Paucsh gave his lecture, it was in front of 400 people. His real target audience was a group of 3, his children. His reach has extended to millions around the world, regardless of faith, age, race, or sex. That is a true legacy for his children. We should learn from him, and be inspired to improve our own lives.

The Last Lecture
The Last Lecture (Amazon.com)

Reinterment

Hirhurim Musings recently posted a write up of the laws of disinterring a body. On occasion, HFBA has dealt with disinterment requests, and while each case is addressed on its own merits, the Hirhurim article is a solid overview of the topic. Click here to view it.

Standing By Myself With Thousands By My Side

On Sunday June 30, I officiated at a funeral. And like all of the other funerals where I've officiated, I was alone with the grave diggers. And once the grave was filled in, and the diggers left, it was just me. While this is tragic, I had a tremendous realization at that exact moment, that I wasn't alone at all.

G-d was standing with me, giving me the strength to assist Him in escorting the deceased to the Next World. This person's deceased relatives were with me, welcoming their loved one. All the deceased at Mount Richmond Cemetery were there as well, in a special section of the next world, for those who suffered in this world. All the recipients of Meis Mitzvah were there as well.

When we perform a mitzvah, we're partnering with G-d. Our doing G-d's will is a manifestation of G-d's greatness in this world. And when a mitzvah is performed, those connected with it show up for the occasion, physically or meta-physically. They want to partner in glorifying G-d's name.

It's been said before but it bears repeating. When a person is buried by the Hebrew Free Burial Association, that person had to have some special merits to ensure they were taken care of. When someone dies, it is only through the good fortune of having an experienced social work, a compassionate landlord, a perceptive public administrator, that people come to us. So when a person is lowered into the ground in this world, the next world pays attention. "Who is this special person?" "I want to escort them as well."

So while I was standing by myself, I was standing with thousands, and more importantly, with G-d, performing his work. To paraphrase Pirkei Avos, "if not HFBA, then who?"